


and all I've known is lost (and found)

by monroeslittle



Category: Charmed (TV 1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monroeslittle/pseuds/monroeslittle
Summary: “Some things have to happen the way they happen. That’s what he said. I don't know what it means. That's all he'd say. Some things have to happen the way they happen.”What if Prue didn't die?There are lots of ways the story could've gone.
Comments: 35
Kudos: 125





	and all I've known is lost (and found)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrimmauldIrregular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmauldIrregular/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Caitlyn!!! Sorry it's late. You're probably the only one who's going to read this, so I hope you like it! I can't wait to rewatch Charmed with you over and over and over until Kristen murders us. I love you! P.S. Do you like the lyrics?

_Morning is waking up_

_Sometimes it’s more than just enough_

_And all that you need is love_

_Is in front of your eyes_

_\---_

1.

\---

She doesn’t understand what could have possessed Paige to _steal_ the Book of Shadows. It was reckless, and impulsive, and _dangerous._ She understands that witchcraft is new to Paige, but this is the behavior of a stupid, rebellious _teenager._

“I know you’re mad at me,” Paige says.

She ignores her.

“I made a mistake, okay?”

She continues to chop the thyme for the potion that Piper is making.

“Come on,” Paige says. “I--”

“You _stole_ the Book of Shadows,” Prue says, “and you used your powers the way I told you _specifically_ you can’t!”

“I _know_ ,” Paige says, “but--”

“Do you think this is a game? Is this _fun_ to you? Do you think that being a witch is some cool, _hip_ thing, and there aren’t rules, or consequences to your actions?”

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m a child,” Paige says.

“You behave like you’re a child!”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’ve said it a hundred million times, and I’ll say it a hundred million more times if you want!”

“Saying you’re sorry doesn’t make what you did okay.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to _say_ anything! I want you to act like you understand the consequences of your actions! I want you to learn from your mistakes! I want you to recognize that we are going up against a demon that’s immune to our powers, and it’s dangerous, and we don’t have time for you to _play_ with your magic!"

“Prue,” Piper says, soft.

“You realize that Furies are immune to our powers?” Prue says.

“I know,” Paige says.

“Do you understand what that means for us? If this potion doesn’t work, we are out of options. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah,” Pagie says, crossing her arms. “I get it.”

“Does that mean that for once you’ll _listen_ to me?”

“It means that I’ll see myself out,” Paige says, and she grabs her purse off the counter.

“Are you serious?”

Paige is already on her way out of the kitchen.

“Hey!” She glances at Piper in disbelief for split-second, shakes her head, and follows. _“Hey!”_

“I don’t see what you need me here for,” Paige says, heading for the door. “I’ll be in the way. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I have never listened a day in my life, and I’m unprepared for the responsibility of being a witch. I think it’ll be better for everyone if I leave.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” Prue says. 

“I’m doing you a favor.”

“Phoebe!”

She realizes what she’s said immediately. “I--” She sighs.

“Yeah,” Paige says. “I’m going to go.”

“Paige,” she says.

Paige is gone.

She turns around slowly. The anger has left her like air from a balloon. She sees that Piper is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and she meets her gaze. “I didn’t . . .” She swallows.

“I know,” Piper says, quiet.

She turns away from her, and scrubs a hand over her face. She knows she fucked up. She shakes her head at herself, and goes to sit on the sofa, sighing, and putting her head in her hands.

“I’ll talk to her,” Piper says, sitting on the sofa with her.

She lifts her head to look at her sister.

“We’ll give her a couple of days, and when the dust is settled, I’ll talk to her. We don’t need the Power of Three for the Furies. We’ll give her some time, and I’ll explain.”

“Explain?”

Piper is quiet. 

“I know I’m being too hard on her,” Prue says. “I don’t mean to be. I’m trying to prepare her for this life, for what we’re up against, the demons, and the warlocks, and--and for the _Source._ I want her to be ready.”

“I know.”

“I won’t always be able to protect her.” She blinks at the tears in her eyes. “I might not be there when she needs me, and she has to be ready for that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Piper says, soft.

“I should’ve--”

“She made a choice,” Piper says.

“I should have gone with her!” She’s crying. “I should have been there for her. I’m the oldest. I’ve always looked after her, and when it mattered the most, I wasn’t there.” She wipes at her cheeks. “It was my job to protect her, and I failed.”

“No,” Piper says, taking her hands. _“No.”_

“I should have been there.” She tries not to think about it, the fact that her loud, fearless baby sister died in the dark of the underworld, alone, and outnumbered. “I should have _been_ there.”

“What about me?” Piper says.

She looks at her. 

“I wouldn’t have survived Shax’s attack if you hadn’t been with me.”

She sniffs.

“You didn’t fail our sister. From the moment she was born, you were there for her whenever she needed you. You stood up for her, and protected her. Always. You loved her, and you never, _ever_ let her down. She made a choice to try to save the man she loved, because that’s the kind of person she was. You couldn’t have done more for her.”

“I’m scared,” Prue says.

“Me, too.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, or to Paige. The Source isn’t going to let up. I don’t know how we can do this without her.”

“We have to,” Piper says, squeezing her hands.

She has no idea how she would have survived without Piper.

She knows that Piper is struggling, too. She’s heard her crying at night, and caught her staring into space with tears in her eyes. She remembers the months that Piper was determined to save their sister, to find a loophole, and change the past. She’s heard her yell at Leo, and rage at fate. She knows that Piper is heartbroken, too. 

But, whenever Prue’s been in the depths of despair, Piper has been there for her.

“We can’t give up on Paige,” Piper says.

“I know,” Prue says. “I just . . . I feel like I’ve always known how to be a sister until now, and I . . “ She shrugs. “I . . . I wish Phoebe were here.” She looks at Piper, and blinks at tears that fill her eyes again. “She’d be much better at this. She’d know how to talk to Paige, and connect with her. She’d have been such a good big sister.” She can’t help but smile at the thought. “I need her.”

“What would she want us to do?”

“She’d want us to be patient with Paige,” Prue says.

“You know, you were hard on Phoebe, too, when she was younger,” Piper says.

“I remember.”

“But she knew you were there for her no matter what.”

She wipes at her eyes. 

“I guess--Paige needs to know that, too. She didn’t grow up with sisters. Paige doesn’t know that she can count on us, and that--sisters are for life.”

She nods.

“I love you,” Piper says.

“I love you, too.” She hugs her. “I love you, so _so_ much.”

They return to the kitchen.

They have to finish the potion. They can’t spend the rest of the afternoon on the sofa, crying, and talking. They need to find a way to stop the Furies before they are cornered by them.

They have to hope a few key changes to the potion for slaying a Grimlock will work.

She thinks of how to fix things with Paige.

She’s never been good at apologizing.

She thinks of what Phoebe would do if she were here, what she would say to their new, impulsive sister, and how she would make things right.

\---

She is working on an array of potions for Paige to keep on hand in case of an attack when she sees the shimmer of a demon.

She is ready to throw the demon against the wall.

She lifts her arm, and stops, because the demon in front of her is Cole.

“You’re back,” she says, stunned. She hasn’t seen him since before Phoebe’s death. She assumed he was killed in the underworld, too. She has no idea what to think of seeing him now. Half of his face is a torn, bloody mess with a cut that crosses over his eye, tears his cheek, and tugs on the corner of his mouth to bring it down. He’s panting, and standing at an odd, stooped angle. One of his legs is turned to the side, and one of his hands is mangled. She meets his gaze. “What the hell happened to you?”

“You have another sister," he says.

She narrows her eyes. “Why are you here now? We thought you were killed. Why would you show up now?” She takes a step to widen her stance.

“I was busy.” He sniffs. “I had things to take care of.”

“Right,” she says, unimpressed.

“Get your sisters,” he says, limping to the sofa.

“Excuse me?”

He sits with a sigh and closes his eyes, tilting his head up. 

“Cole,” she says.

“I don’t have much time. Call them here. I want this over with.”

She clenches her jaw. Who the hell does he think he is? She has no idea what he wants, but he has no right to ask for _anything_ from them. It’s his fault that Phoebe’s dead. She glares at him.

“Are you going to call them, or aren’t you?”

“Leo!” she says.

He appears in front of her with a furrow in his brow.

She nods her head at Cole, and he’s stunned, looking at her again in search of an explanation, but she has no answers for him, and shrugs in reply.

“What happened to you?” Leo says.

“I need the Power of Three,” Cole says, opening his eyes.

“Tough,” Prue says.

“If you want to kill me, now’s your chance.” He looks at Prue with a blank, unflinching expression. “Get your sisters.”

She looks at Leo.

He orbs.

“She was down there because of you, you know,” Prue says.

“I know,” he says.

She looks at him, and the hatred that burns in her chest mingles with something like pity for him.

There’s the glow of orbs, and Leo returns with her sisters.

“What the--?” Piper says.

“Oh, my _God,”_ Paige says.

“You have a lot of nerve to show up here,” Piper says.

“I killed the Source,” Cole says, calm.

“What?”

“I made him pay for what he did. That’s where I’ve been. I swore that day that I’d make him pay, and I did.” He looks away from them. “It’s done.”

“What are you here for now?” Piper asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“To die,” Prue says.

“I got my revenge. But it doesn’t bring her back. I have nothing left to live for.” He swallows. “ I can’t die as easily as I might have once, however. When I killed the Source, I gained his powers. It won’t be long before they overwhelm what humanity I have, and I’ll assume his throne.” He clears his throat. “That’s why it has to be now.” He looks at each of them. “Use the Power of Three.”

“You _want_ us to kill you?” Paige says, incredulous.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to my soul if there’s any of it left at this point. But there’s nothing here for me. And if there’s any chance I can be with her again, I’ll take it.”

Prue almost didn’t believe it.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks. “Do it!”

“Is this what Phoebe would have wanted?” Leo says.

Cole pushes to his feet suddenly, and with a snarl, he throws a ball of energy at Paige.

She orbs.

“What are you waiting for, dammit?” he yells.

 _“Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, and Melinda,”_ Piper says.

They join hands.

_“Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace.”_

The air begins to stir around them.

_“Stand strong beside us, vanquish this evil, from time and space.”_

He closes his eyes when it overtakes him, and she sees his face in the glow of the spell, sees the start of a sob, the hatred, and the grief, and she turns her eyes from the blast.

It’s over.

She hopes for the sake of her bright, beautiful baby sister that his soul _is_ reunited with her.

\---

She drives to Paige’s apartment after she finishes a shoot. They haven’t heard from her in a couple of weeks, and it’s time for Prue to make things right. She leaves her equipment in the car and goes into the building, taking a few slow, deep breaths before she knocks on the door of Paige’s apartment.

“Oh,” Paige says, surprised. 

“Hey,” Prue says. “Are you busy right now?”

“Is something the matter?”

“I wanted to talk, actually. There’s a lot I need to say, and while I was downtown, I figured I’d see if you were free. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” she says. 

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, um. Right. Yes.” She moves to the side. “Come in.”

Her apartment is a mess, but, of course, Prue is aware that Paige isn’t the tidiest of people. There are clothes over the back of the couch, piles of mail on a chair, and a stapler, a pack of toilet paper rolls, and old, scratch up Magic 8 ball on the counter, shoes in the corner, and a stack of books by the rumpled, unmade bed. It’s lived in, and it’s very, very Paige.

“You want a cup of tea, or something?”

“Sure.”

In her tiny, corner kitchen, Paige puts the kettle on the stove to boil and takes a selection of teas from a cabinet.

“I like your apartment,” Prue says. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s fun. I used to have an apartment like this after I graduated from college. I shared it with Piper, actually. I loved that apartment.”

“Why’d you move back home again?”

“The house has been in our family for generations.”

“It is a really beautiful house,” Paige says.

She nods.

“So,” Paige says, clearing her throat. “What’s up?” She looks at Prue.

“Okay, so.” She’s planned this, what she wants to say, and how to say it. “I know that I’m a lot. I worry, and I--I _obsess,_ and I don’t have a lot of patience. I know I can be overbearing. But, the reason is, it’s because I care.”

“I know,” Prue says.

“Really? I don’t want you to think that I don’t like you, or that I’m a bully.”

“I get it,” Paige says. “I . . . I guess I need you to know that, yes, I’m new at this, and I’m going to mess up, but I’m learning. I swear, I am. And if you give me a chance, I can do this.”

“You’re doing great,” Prue says.

“Eh,” Paige says, shrugging a shoulder.

“You are,” Prue says. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you all at once.”

“I like to think I’m doing pretty okay, but . . .” She bites her lip. “I’m never going to be Phoebe.”

“I know,” Prue says.

“I can’t replace her. If that’s what you from me, I’m sorry. I can’t do the things she did, or be the person she was.”

“That isn’t what I want from you _at all,”_ Prue says.

Paige turns away from her to take the kettle off the stove.

“I used to fight with Phoebe constantly. Before we got our powers, we were practically _always_ fighting. I used to disagree with every single choice she made, and I let her know it. I’m overbearing, remembering? I used to make her _furious_ with me.”

“But it changed when you got your powers?”

“We changed,” Prue says. “We grew up.”

“I get it,” Paige says. 

“I guess I reverted a little, though, when I was mad at you, and . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry about how harsh I was, and I’m sorry I yelled at you. I promise I’m going to do better.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Paige says. “I shouldn’t have stolen the book.”

“Sisters steal things from each other,” Prue says. “It’s part of the gig.”

“Does this mean my initiation is complete?”

“I think so.”

She smiles.

“I should tell you what you’re getting into,” Prue says. “I’m going to get mad sometimes. I'm going to steal your clothes. I’m going to make you hate me. But, here's the thing, even if things are bad between us, even if I’m mad, and you hate me, I’m on your side. That’s what sisters are for. I’m your sister, and I’m on your side.”

“Yeah?”

“Forever,” Prue says, firm.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Paige says.

“Good.”

“But, um.” She tilts her head to the side. “Is there a chance that we could be friends, too?”

She hums in consideration for a moment, and reaches for the Magic 8 Ball. “Let’s see about that.” She shakes it, and smiles at the answer, glancing up.

“Well?”

“You may rely on it,” she reads.

“Excellent,” Paige says.

She smiles. “Would I look that good in bright pink lipstick?” she asks, shaking the ball again, and when it makes Paige laugh, she suppresses a smile, only to look at the answer, and frown, shaking the ball again, and holding it away from Paige’s reach when she tries to grab it.

“Cheater!” Paige says.

“I’ve always played that you get to shake it twice,” Prue says, matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, right.”

She grins.

She doesn’t realize until later that it’s the very first time in months she wasn’t thinking about the sister she lost, or how they’ll survive whatever comes next.

She was happy.

They’re going to be okay. She realizes it that night while she cleans up the dinner that Piper made the three of them. It won’t be easy, and there will be a lot more tears, and many more arguments, but, in the end, they’re going to be okay.

\---

2.

\---

She shakes her head at her mother and follows her sister from the attic. There’s way too much for her to process properly right now, so she’ll focus on what’s most important, and deal with the rest when she can. She goes to the bedroom at the end of the hall, and stops in the doorway.

Prue is sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

She comes in, and closes the door.

“If they want to reconstitute the Power of Three,” Prue says, “they can give us back the sister they took from us.” 

“I don’t think they have that power,” Phoebe says.

“Then what good are they?”

She sits on the bed by her sister.

“They don’t get to do this,” Prue says, shaking her head. “They don’t get to find a _loophole_ to . . .”

“She isn’t a loophole,” Phoebe says.

“She’s a stranger.”

“She’s an innocent.” That’s the crux of the matter. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them, or to the Power of Three. But, regardless, the fact remains this girl needs their help. “She’s an innocent, and she’s in danger.”

“I . . . How could we not have known?” Prue says.

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t believe Mom gave up her baby, and _lied_ to us. Because she was scared of what the Elders were going to do if they learned she broke a rule? I can’t believe _Grams_ went along with it.”

“Seems like it would have been more her style to drop big, obvious hints until we figured it out,” Phoebe says.

“Was this always the plan? A backup? Did they know that chances were one of us was going to die, so they needed a spare?”

“I don’t know.”

“They think they can just switch her out? And we’re supposed to be okay with that? They think Piper doesn’t matter, because there’s another?”

“Prue.”

“I won’t do it. I don’t care if she’s our sister. I won’t. I’m _done_ with doing what they want, with the Power of Three, with risking our lives for _their_ great, big battle of good versus evil.”

“What about the Source?” 

“I don’t care about the Source!”

“He is going to come after us, Prue.”

“We’ll strip our powers. We’ll stay out of his way, and he’ll have no reason to come after us. We’ll led normal, _regular_ lives.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Phoebe says.

“It can be!”

“Prue.”

“Why don’t we get to decide our destiny for ourselves? Why don’t we--?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Prue is stunned into silence.

“I . . .” She hadn’t actually meant to say it. She followed Prue from the attic to talk to her about their sister. She had no intention of telling her. “I’m pregnant.” She swallows. “I don’t know how it happened. I’ve always been cautious. I don’t know how it’s possible. But I’ve taken a lot of tests, and every single test was positive, and I went to the doctor, and he confirmed it. It’s true.”

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve got the confirmation a couple of weeks ago,” Phoebe says.

_“Weeks?”_

“I’m sorry, I--” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know, and I wanted to, but . . . but Piper is gone, and the Source is after us, and you’ve been--I know you blame me for what happened, and I blame me, too, and I . . .” She blinks at the tears that gather in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Phoebe,” Prue says.

“I’m _scared,_ Prue.”

She’s wanted to say this for weeks, to _talk_ to her sister, and to cry with her. 

They haven’t been able to. 

There’s been a distance between them, made of guilt, and rage, and grief. It isn’t their fault. They are links on a chain that’s broken because it was Piper in the middle, always, holding the two of them together.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” Prue says.

“Don’t you think you should?”

_“No.”_

“I’m the reason that Leo wasn’t there when you needed him,” Phoebe says.

“He was where _you_ needed him,” Prue says.

“I--”

“Phoebe, I’m to blame if anyone is.”

“You?”

“I’m the oldest,” Prue says. “It’s my _job_ to protect my sisters, and I failed.”

“No,” Phoebe says, shaking her head.

“I promise that I won’t fail you again. Do you hear me? I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you, or to your baby. I won’t let it.”

“You have _never_ failed me,” Phoebe says, insistent.

They are both of them crying now, holding each other’s hands with desperate, white-knuckled grips.

“I love you,” Phoebe says.

“I love you, too.”

She hugs her. Prue is ready for her, pulling her close, and holding her tightly. She closes her eyes, and she clings to her sister.

“I love you, too,” Prue says. “I love you more than you can possibly know.”

She pulls away from her.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” Prue says, a small, tearful smile on her face.

“I know.”

“You aren’t in this by yourself.”

She bites her lip.

“What?”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not--I thought I might have kids someday, but I didn’t want it now, or like this. This-- _Piper_ was supposed to have a baby.” She shakes her head. “And now we’ve learned that Mom gave up her baby because she feared the repercussions of breaking the rules, and I’m pregnant with a baby that’s half a witch, half a _demon,_ and I’m _terrified_ of what that means.”

“They aren’t going to touch your baby, Phoebe,” Prue says, fierce.

She wipes at her cheeks.

“I don’t care if your baby is half a demon.”

“I think the Elders are going to care,” Phoebe says. 

“Nobody on Earth, above it, or below it gets a say in what happens to your baby. Do you hear me? Nobody. You’re going to have this baby, and you’re going to be the best, most caring mother. Nobody is going to take her away from you.”

“What about the Source?”

“I’ll kill him before he touches your baby. I swear it.”

“How?” She raises her eyebrows. “How can we go up against him without the Power of Three?” She knows what the answer is, of course.

“Haven’t you heard?” Prue says.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“She’s our sister, isn’t she?”

She is. It’s hard to believe. She is their _sister._

“I was angry,” Prue says. “I _am_ angry. And I’m confused, and I’m scared, and I’m overwhelmed.” She sighs. “That doesn’t mean that I’m going to leave this girl to the mercy of the Source.”

“Paige.”

“Paige,” she says.

Phoebe can’t help but lean into Prue again.

“Have you talked to Cole?”

“He’s constantly on the run,” she says, “trying to shake off some new, bloodthirsty demonic bounty hunter, you know, and he’s stressed, and _distant.”_

“I bet he’ll be excited.”

She tilts her head up to look at her sister.

“I am,” Prue says.

It makes Phoebe want to cry again.

Nothing’s been fixed. 

Piper is gone, and the Power of Three is broken, she is pregnant, and the baby is half a demon, and now they have a stranger for a sister, and they need to save her before the Source is able to get to her.

She can’t help but think in that moment, however, that somehow, someway they’ll manage.

\---

They sit Paige in between them on the sofa in the attic to show the Book of Shadows to her.

Paige is fascinated by everything.

They tell her the story of how they discovered it, and show her the spell that returned their powers to them. They let her flip through the pages, and give her commentary on the spells that catch her interest. They tell her stories of Piper, of how she was afraid to go in a church, and when she fell in love with a ghost, and the time she was turned into a wendigo.

Phoebe likes Paige.

She is funny and brazen and more than willing to speak up for herself, to say what she thinks, what she feels, and what she wants.

Things are going slightly better for them.

Paige is safe.

She revealed to Cole that she was pregnant, and he sank to his knees, pressed his face to her stomach, and promised that he’d be there for them, for Phoebe, and for their baby. 

They are setting into their new, changed lives.

It figures that they would be thrown for a loop again just when they’re getting their footing.

They are telling the story of the succubus to Paige when Leo orbs in.

“Hey,” Phoebe says, soft.

He looks better than he has a while. He is clean-shaven, and his eyes aren’t bloodshot. He looks like he might be somewhere on the road to finding his feet again. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay,” he says.

The last few months have been tough on all of them, but they have been hardest on Leo. 

He was unable to function in the weeks after Piper was killed, and disappeared for days at a time, and Phoebe was worried about when he ate, and when he slept, about where he went when he wasn’t with them, and what was going to happen to him. 

Things have been going slowly better lately for all of him, and for Leo, too.

“I wanted to talk to the three of you about something, actually,” he says.

“What’s up?” Prue says.

He takes a seat on a trunk of clothes. “I’ve been . . .” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I want to retire. I asked the Elders, and I’ve been given their permission. I’m _going_ to retire.” He lifts his gaze to look at them.

“Retire?” Paige says, wrinkling her brow.

“I want to move on,” he says. “I want to--I want to be with Piper.” 

“If you’re with Piper,” Phoebe says, “you’re . . .”

He looks at her sadly.

She touches a hand to her mouth. He means to leave this world. Doesn’t he? He means to leave, and once he does, they won’t ever see him again, because he’ll have gone where they can’t follow, to Piper, and what comes after. She opens her mouth, and closes it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you need a whitelighter now more than ever, and I _tried,_ but I . . .” He lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

She moves off the couch to go to him, and kneels in front of him, taking his hands.

He’s crying.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she says.

“They’ll--” He clears his throat. “They’ll send another whitelighter to you.”

She can’t really imagine that.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She looks at him, she thinks of the life they should have had, Piper and Leo, the children they should’ve had, and the way they should have grown old together.

Once he’s gone, it’ll be like losing her sister all over again. 

She blinks at the burn of tears in her eyes.

“I wish I were stronger,” he says. “I wish . . .”

“You’ve given us so much, Leo,” Phoebe says, squeezing his hands. _“So much.”_

He pulls a hand from her grasp to cover his face. She hugs him. He wraps his arms around her in return, and draws in a deep, shaky breath.

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He’s going to be with Piper, because they are soulmates, and they _belong_ with each other, in this world, and the next. She can’t hold that against him, and is filled with such deep, overwhelming love for in that moment, in fact, that she wants to cry, and she wants to laugh, wants to hug him tightly, and never let go.

He pulls away from her at last, and meets her gaze.

She smiles.

He returns it softly.

“Can you stay for dinner?” she asks.

He nods.

“It won’t be as good as Piper would have made it, but we’ll use her recipes, and we’ll be together, and we’ll think of her, and it’ll be like she would have wanted.”

“I’d love that,” he says.

They leave the Book of Shadows in the attic.

None of them is good in the kitchen. 

They flip through the binder with Piper’s most used, favorite recipes, and they select their favorites, lasagna, sweet potato casserole, and risotto, and cream cheese cookies for dessert. 

There are notes in Piper’s neat, slanted cursive on a lot of the recipes.

Most of the notes are about tweaks to the recipe.

Some of them are personal.

It says _a favorite of Prue’s_ on the recipe for coleslaw, and it says _Grams likes it better with extra condensed milk_ on the recipe for fudge, and it says _don’t put almonds if making for Phoebe!_ on the recipe for sweet potato casserole.

Phoebe is wiping at tears by the time they select the recipes they want.

They have to make a run to the store for ingredients.

They crowd the kitchen once they have everything they need, all of them, and they make a mess, and they make a meal. Nothing is as good as Piper made it. But, somehow, Phoebe is certain that Piper is there, too, in spirit, in them, in how very much she loved them.

They say goodbye to Leo in the foyer while the sink is filled with dishes.

It’s hard.

She’s never had the chance to say goodbye to a person she was about to lose.

He’ll never meet her daughter. How is that possible? He won’t be here when her daughter is born, or when she grows up, and her daughter will never know her uncle.

“I love you,” she says, tearful.

“I’ll always be watching over you,” he says. “Always.”

She hugs him.

It’s one of the most difficult things she’s done in her life, letting go.

She wishes that Cole were here. She wishes that she was selfish and willing to cling to Leo, to reveal that she’s pregnant, and to insist that she needs him, begging him please, please to stay. She wishes that Piper could have opened her eyes that terrible day.

He leaves.

She is grateful when Prue wraps an arm around her shoulders.

They are alone, the three of them, back at the beginning, and far, far from it, without a whitelighter, and up against the Source, with a baby on the way, and the future’s never seemed more unclear.

\---

She knows that grief comes in waves, but she has no idea how many more waves she’s capable of withstanding before she’s caught by the current and drowned. 

It’s the worst in the dark, early hours of the morning.

That’s when she’s alone with her thoughts.

She thinks of going to Piper’s room, of crawling into bed with her sister and poking at her until she wakes up and complaining to her about whatever’s on her mind. She’s done that more times that she can count, when she was a kid, when she was a teenager, when she was a witch. She thinks of the way that Piper would would lie there with a sleepy, annoyed expression on her face, refusing to open her eyes but listening, and, eventually, she’d gather the energy to open her eyes, to look at Phoebe, and in her soft, reassuring voice, to give her advice.

But if she were to go to her room this morning, it would be empty.

She can never crawl into bed with her sister again.

She has her baby, at least, to keep her company in the quiet, lonely hours of the morning.

She is hit with a bout of nausea and has to hurry to the bathroom to throw up everything in her stomach. “Baby, please,” she murmurs. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sits with her back to the tub.

If Piper were here, she would know some good, homemade remedy for nausea.

She splashes her face with water and leaves the bathroom, grabbing a robe from her bedroom, and going to the kitchen in search of something starchy, bland, and easy to eat.

It’s 5:41 a.m.

Paige is sitting in the kitchen with a sea of papers on the table in front of her.

“You’re up early,” Phoebe says, startled.

It’s strange to see Paige without makeup, in her pajamas, and her hair in a messy, unwashed ponytail, flattened on the side.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m kind of behind on paperwork for work,” Paige says.

“It’s hard being a working witch," Phoebe says.

They’ve only been living together for a week. She thought she was getting to know her sister, but she had no idea how much there was left to learn until Paige moved in. They’re adjusting slowly but surely.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Nah,” Paige says.

“I’m better at busywork than you might think,” Phoebe says, fishing a box of saltines from the cabinet.

“Yeah?”

“I did a lot of that kind of work when I lived in New York.”

“You lived in New York?”

“It was when I decided I needed a break from college,” Phoebe says, “and a change of pace, too.”

There’s a shimmer of orbs in the middle of the kitchen.

She chokes on a saltine when he materializes.

He looks the way she remembers. “Hey, Phoebe.” He’s dressed like he used to, in a nice, fitted suit with a tie, and he has that old, familiar smile on his face, small, and sheepish. 

She breathes a laugh. 

“Miss me?” Andy says.

“Oh, my God.” She surges in to hug him tightly. “Oh, my _God.”_

He chuckles.

“I don’t understand,” she says, pulling away slightly to look at him again.

“I’m a whitelighter,” he says.

She shakes her head at him. _Of course_ he’s a whitelighter. She should have known he would be. It’s _Andy._ When she was a red-kneed, over-energetic five-year-old, she used to tell the kids at school that he was her brother, and when one of them asked him about it, he winked at Phoebe, and he went along with it, because at ten years old he was already the best.

Who better to become a whitelighter?

She beams at him.

“I’ve always been told to keep my distance from you,” he says.

“What’s changed?”

“When I learned that they were searching for a whitelighter for the Charmed Ones, I had to put my hat in the ring.”

“And?”

He grins.

“Oh, my God!”

“Okay,” Paige says. “I feel like I might be out of the loop.”

She turns to Paige to explain. 

“Why is everyone up right now?” Prue says, walking in. “I’m the earlybird of this--” She stops at the sight of him. “. . . family”

“Hello, Prue,” Andy says.

Prue is frozen.

“He’s a whitelighter,” Phoebe says, eager.

“You’re . . .”

“Surprise,” Andy says.

Prue doesn’t say anything when she crosses the kitchen to him, but there are tears in her eyes, and when Prue hugs him, he closes his eyes, and presses his face into her hair.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“How is this possible right now?”

“They made me a whitelighter. I had a spirit of good in me, they said, and my sacrifice for you earned me the honor if I wanted it, and I wanted it. They’ve given me jobs around the world.”

“But now you’re here?”

“I heard you were in the market for a whitelighter,” he says.

She laughs.

He pulls back slightly to wipe the tears off her cheek.

“You’re _our_ whitelighter?”

“I am.”

She clutches his arms in her hands.

“It’s because of her,” he says.

“Her?”

“She fought for it. She insisted. She said it was the very least they could do for you.”

_“Piper?”_

He smiles.

“Of course,” Phoebe says, shaking her head.

Piper had always looked after them. Why would that change now? She was the sister in the middle, quieter, and calmer, the mediator, and the friend, better at standing up for her sisters than at standing up for herself, and she had always been there when they needed her.

She was _Piper._

“Is anyone going to explain to me what’s going on?” Paige says.

“This is Andy,” Prue says, and she turns to look at Paige with a flush in her cheeks, with tears in her lashes, and a smile on her face. “Our whitelighter.”

“I’m a friend of the family,” he adds.

“Nice to meet you,” Paige says. “I think.”

Phoebe can’t help but surge in again with a laugh, hugging her sister, and hugging her whitelighter.

Andy is _back._

She glances at Paige, and is filled with sudden, overwhelming affection for her sister. “C’mere,” she says, waving a hand at Paige. She continues to gesture at her wildly until Paige stands.

“Are we hugging now?” Paige says.

“Yes,” Phoebe says.

They fold her into the hug.

She laughs at the awkwardness of the embrace and clings to her little, patched up family in the kitchen at 6 am, blinking at tears, and happy.

\---

3.

\---

The pews in the church are empty, most of the lights are off, and they are alone in front of the altar when Phoebe marries Cole.

The wedding they planned was a _disaster._

But before they left the church, Prue stopped them. “We can still make this happen,” she said, the start of a smile on her face. And when Phoebe asked her how, she summed Grams to perform the ceremony.

It’s a small, simple ceremony like Piper’s.

She knows this isn’t the wedding Phoebe wanted.

Her sister imagined a big, fancy wedding with a crowd of friends to celebrate. 

She thinks that Phoebe is happy that moment, however, with her hands in Cole’s, and Grams in front of them, officiating, with her sisters to her side, smiling, and tearing up, and Leo is there, too, of course.

They don’t drive together to the manor after.

Leo orbs Piper.

They don’t have very much time, but they manage to put together a reception of sorts.

Phoebe hugs Piper with a laugh as soon as she arrives, sees the bottles of champagne, smells the brownies in the oven, and hears their mother’s old, beloved Diana Ross record, and realizes why Piper made Leo orb her away from the church. 

They toast the wedding with glasses of champagne. Prue gives a speech about how much she loves her sister, and how glad she is that she found a man who might possibly love her more. They find more to drink when they finish the champagne.

They eat the brownies from the pan.

They dance a lot, a couple of slow, romantic waltzes around the conservatory, and more of all of them, together, spinning, and dipping, laughing.

It’s the last really good night they have together for a very long time.

Things are busy in the months that follow.

The Source is _gone._

They are free to live their lives the way they’ve wanted to for years.

It isn’t long after they marry that Cole convinces Phoebe to move from the manor.

Prue becomes more involved in her work than ever, working on the weekends, and doing a lot of shoots that take her from the city for days at a time.

Piper uses her time on things she hasn’t had time for in years, goes to lunch with friends, reads her way through the stack of books by her bed, does a thorough, deep clean of the house.

None of that is enough to distract her from the fact that she wants a baby.

She’s devastated by the news from the doctor that a pregnancy is unlikely for her.

Phoebe is pregnant.

She is happy for her sister, she _is,_ but she can’t help crying to herself that night, and Leo is there for her, of course, but, somehow, it’s worse to have him holding her, and comforting her, because he wants a baby, too, and she can’t give him one.

She isn’t paying any attention.

There are clues. 

Cole is secretive. She meets a vampire at his apartment, though, of course, she has no idea the man’s a vampire at the time. Cole is short with her, and with Prue, dismissive, and _mean_ at times.

It’s there in front of her, the truth, but she is wrapped up in work and in wanting a baby.

They have no idea when they’re trying to stop the coronation of a new, unknown Sources that _Cole_ is the Source.

They aren’t prepared for anything.

Phoebe is taken from them in the blink of an eye. She makes a choice, and she joins her husband. Phoebe becomes Queen of the Underworld.

They sit in the quiet of the Manor after everything is over.

“How could we have missed this?” Piper says.

“He’s brainwashed her,” Prue says, shaking her head. “He brainwashed her with a spell, or a potion.”

“Is there a spell that does that?”

“Possibly,” Leo says.

“If we find a way to kill him, it’ll free her,” Prue says, determined.

But how are they going to defeat the Source without the Power of Three?

They expect an attack from him. 

They search the Book of Shadows for ways to combat his powers, prepare a lot of potions, and write a lot spells. They barely sleep. They don’t bother with going to work. They eat when they need to. They prepare and prepare and prepare. It's up to them. They have to save their sister.

He never does come after them, however.

After a couple of months, they realize that demons in general are scarce in their lives.

“It could be Phoebe is protecting us,” Prue says.

They find what demons they can and test the spells they’ve created until they are certain they’re ready.

They take the fight to Cole.

He beats them soundly when they come, shaking his head at the potions they they throw and absorbing the spells, sending them flying through the air with a wave of his hand. 

Piper is able to sit up, lightheaded, and with the tang of blood in her mouth, but Prue is unconscious at her side, and she pulls her sister in close and is about to call for Leo when she sees her.

Phoebe is standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

Cole is oblivious. He approaches Piper with slow, measured steps like a predator circles a prey, and when he's right in front of her, he summons a fireball to his hand.

“Phoebe," Piper says. "Phoebe, are you going to let him kill us?"

Phoebe is motionless in the shadows.

She wants to scream at Phoebe, but she isn’t able to. She clutches Prue, and she ignores the burn of tears in her eyes, and she looks at Phoebe with all of the anger, grief, guilt, and fear that’s threatening to swallow her whole. She wants to fight for Phoebe, but she doesn’t know how.

Cole is going to kill them.

But when Leo orbs in behind them, Cole does not bat an eye, and he watches with a blank, emotionless face when Leo places a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t come back here again,” Cole says, flat. And he doesn't stop Leo from orbing them away.

She knows they'll never go back.

They can't. They don’t stand a chance against the Source of All Evil without Phoebe.

Prue isn’t deterred. The moment she’s healed, she wants to discuss what happened. “Phoebe didn’t say a word?” she asks. “She didn’t try to talk to you? She didn’t try to stop him? She didn’t try to do _anything?”_

“That’s what I said," Piper says.

“Piper, that’s proof that Phoebe _is_ under a spell!”

“What’s it matter?” Piper says, loud. “If she’s under a spell, we can’t do anything. If she’s _possessed,_ we can’t do anything. If she’s chosen this path, him, _evil,_ we can’t do anything! We don’t have the power!”

“She’s our _sister_.”

“If we go after him again, he’ll kill us.”

“I’d rather die fighting for my sister than abandon her when she needs me the most!”

“And if this is what she’s _chosen?”_ Piper says.

“I refuse to believe that Phoebe would have chosen evil.”

It doesn’t matter what Prue believes. 

There’s no way forward from here. They can’t save her, and they can’t live their lives until they’ve saved her. There’s nothing in front of them, nowhere to go, and nothing to do.

It’s over.

The weeks that follow are much the same.

Prue isn’t going to give up. She decides she needs to make an alliance with demons if she wants to defeat the Source. “There’s no way every demon down there is pleased with Cole,” she argues. She goes to the underworld in search of allies. Prue is going to save her sister no matter the cost.

Piper puts her attention on the club. 

That’s where Phoebe finds her. 

She is alone at the club in the middle of the morning, is looking at the books, running the numbers, and trying to clean up the mess her neglect of the club has made.

“Hey,” Phoebe says.

Piper snaps her head up so quickly she gets a crick in her neck.

Phoebe walks down the steps from the entrance. She looks a lot like herself, though she’s paler, and her hair is longer than it’s been in a while, and she is very, very pregnant. Phoebe is here.

“Hello,” Piper says.

“I had a premonition,” Phoebe says, matter-of-fact.

She blinks. 

“I saw a demon kill a man.”

“Congratulations?”

“I’ve never ignored a premonition before,” Phoebe says, annoyed. “I’m not about to start now.”

“I’m sorry. Why are you here right now? I haven’t seen or heard from you in months, since, you know, you became the Queen of the Underworld.”

“I had a premonition.”

“I heard.”

“Well, are you going to help me?” Phoebe asks.

Piper gapes.

Phoebe is standing in front of her like it’s any other day. This isn’t the still, silent Phoebe she saw in the shadows across the penthouse a few weeks ago. Phoebe is staring at her expectantly, is _Phoebe,_ and seems to have forgotten what their lives looks like right now.

What the hell is going on?

Phoebe is _back._

“You want me to help you . . . save a man from a demon?” Piper says.

“Obviously.”

“You’re the Queen of the Underworld.”

“So?”

She opens her mouth, and closes it. “Phoebe, you . . .” She shakes her head.

“What?”

“Sorry if I’m hesitant about helping you fight evil when you _are_ evil, and the memory of you _watching_ your husband very nearly _kill_ me is fresh in my mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe says.

“What am I . . . ?”

Phoebe is frowning at her.

“Don’t you remember?”

“I . . .” Phoebe glances off for a split-second, and shakes her head. “What?”

There is something in the wrinkle of Phoebe's brow in that moment that startles Piper, something in the way that Phoebe looked off, and shook her head, the fact that she does not remember a moment that Piper could never forget.

“Are you going to help me, or not?” Phoebe says, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yes,” Piper says.

“Good.”

“I’ll, um.” She clears her throat. “I’ll get in touch with Prue.”

“I know when it’s going to happen and where. It’s tonight. I’ll call for Leo when I’m there, and he can bring the two of you.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“Phoebe, I--”

“I have to go,” Phoebe says.

She watches her leave.

What if Phoebe _is_ under a spell, and she's trying to fight it?

She goes home immediately, only to discover the manor is empty. She calls for Leo, and when he does not answer, she knows he’s in the underworld with Prue. She paces the house and thinks of what they can do tonight in the time they’ll have.

It could be a trap.

She refuses to allow that thought to overtake her, however.

She needs to think of a way to reach the good in Phoebe. If Phoebe is able to listen to her premonitions, if she wants to fight a demon and save an innocent, there _has_ to be some good left in her. She needs to find a way to make Phoebe remember who she is.

She makes the potion in the back of the book that she used to imagine she was going to make for herself.

Prue is back that afternoon with Leo in tow.

She tells them everything that happened, her conversation with Phoebe, and what she thinks it means.

Prue is excited.

Things don’t go exactly the way they hoped.

Phoebe is waiting in an alleyway for them, and, for a moment in time, it seems like they are back, the Power of Three, about to defeat a demon and save an innocent, but before they can, Phoebe stops them, _talks_ to the demon, and sends him away.

“If you were going to tell him off, why did you need us here?” Prue says.

Apparently, she _missed_ them.

“You don’t get to do this to us,” Prue says. "You can't have it both ways. You can't be the Source's wife and a part of the Power of Three. You have to choose."

Phoebe isn't happy about that.

But it's clear if they are forcing her to make a choice, she isn't going to choose them.

Phoebe turns away from them.

“Wait,” Piper says. “I . . .”

There is a mean, bratty curl at the edge of Phoebe’s lip that makes her hesitate.

“This is for the baby,” she says, fishing the jar from her purse, and holding it out. “It’s Grams’s recipe. She made it when Mom was pregnant with Prue. It’s dill and basil and, well, it’s to protect the baby, and ensure . . .” She trails off.

“Thanks,” Phoebe says, taking the potion.

“I miss you, too,” Piper says.

There isn’t more to say after that.

They leave with Leo.

It’s strange the way the roles are reversed for Prue and Piper after that.

“She didn’t act like someone under a spell,” Prue says. “She acted like . . . a _brat._ She was like her selfish, annoying teenage self. She acted like we were being unreasonable about the situation.”

“She missed us,” Piper says.

“She would have watched you die,” Prue says.

That’s the thing. 

Piper is certain that Phoebe _would_ have watched her die that day, but she can’t make herself believe that the Phoebe they saw today would have stood silently in the shadows while Piper was killed.

What’s that mean?

Three days later, they learn the answer.

It’s a gray, rainy morning. Prue is nursing a cup of coffee. Leo is reading the paper with a wrinkle in his brow. Piper is making an omelette. It’s quiet.

There’s a pounding on the door.

“Do we know who that is?” Prue says. 

“Darryl?” Piper says. She lowers the heat on the stove and goes to answer the door.

It’s Phoebe. She’s in a coat, her arms wrapped around her waist, and she is drenched from the rain, and when she meets Piper’s gaze, she crumbles, pressing a hand to her mouth and starting to cry. It’s _Phoebe._

“Oh, my God,” Piper says.

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe says, tremulous. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Piper shakes her head. “No. Hey. No.” She hugs her. Phoebe is soaked, but Piper couldn’t possibly care less. She hugs her tightly, holding her while she shakes and sobs, shushing her softly. “It’s okay.” She turns her face to press a kiss to her sister's hair.

Phoebe is home.

She is a mess, shivering and stumbling, but they get her inside and dry her off, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, and they put on a pot of tea for her, and they sit with her on the couch, holding her hands, and wiping her smeared, running makeup with a towel.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“What happened to you?” Prue asks.

“I was under a spell.” She swallows. “It . . . it was like I was underwater, like I couldn’t hear, or see, or know things properly, like everything was a blur, and my thoughts were moving too slowly, and . . .” She shakes her head. “I was fighting it, I think. There were days when my mind was clear, or I thought it was, and I--that’s when I had my premonition, and I came to you.”

“You gave me hope,” Piper says, soft.

“I took the potion you gave me,” Phoebe says. “I took it.”

“Good.”

“And that night I heard when the Seer came into my room to say the spell.” Tears are filling her eyes. “She took away my will. I heard her. She was taking my will from me every single night.”

“But you fought her off,” Prue says.

“I was protected this time,” Phoebe says, and she looks at Piper. _“You_ protected me.”

“Me?”

“I think that potion you gave me for the baby, I think it . . .” She shrugs. “It protected me, too.”

They hug her.

She begins to cry again, but it’s okay, because she’s with them, _home,_ and they can hold her, wipe her tears, and tell her how much they love her.

They will never lose her again.

She holds on tightly to their hands in the elevator of the penthouse. 

“I love you,” Cole says.

She shakes her head at him.

“I wanted her to stop. You weren’t you. I knew it was the spell she was keeping you under.” He looks at her sadly. “But if I forced her to stop, I knew I was going to lose you.”

“I lost you, too,” Phoebe says, tearful.

 _“Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, and Melinda,”_ Prue starts. _“Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace.”_

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe says.

“I will always love you,” Cole says.

_“Stand strong beside us, vanquish this evil, from time and space.”_

They sink to the ground with Phoebe after it’s over, and she sobs, hugging her belly, and rocking in their arms.

\---

Phoebe has the baby at the manor. Ava is there to help. She’s in labor for hours, through the night, and into the morning, but she has the baby at last at 11:27 a.m. It’s a boy. She is sobbing when they place him in her arms. 

He’s a tiny, red-faced shrimp of a person with a cap of thin, silky dark hair on his head.

“Hi,” Phoebe says, breathless. “Hi, there.”

“He’s beautiful,” Prue says.

“I--” She tears her gaze from her son. “I thought of a name.” She looks at her sisters. “Turner.” She sniffs. “I know it doesn’t start with a P, but I . . .”

“It’s perfect,” Piper says.

She leans her head on Piper’s shoulder.

Nobody is going to hurt this new, tiny miracle. There was a moment in time when they thought the Seer was going to take the baby from Phoebe, but, of course, they stopped her. Nobody is going to lay a hand on him.

He might be half a demon and half an orphan, but he is a Halliwell.

They will protect him with everything they have.

\---

They decide to accept when the Angel of Destiny offers them the chance at a normal, mortal life.

They were given an inheritance they never asked for, and they have sacrificed more than they thought they could, and they will never be given this opportunity again.

The Angel of Destiny gives a small, slight smile when they tell him.

“What about Leo?” Piper asks.

“Leo?” he says.

“Will he stay a whitelighter?”

“If he wishes his destiny to remain intertwined with your destiny,” says the Angel, “he cannot.”

“You might have _mentioned_ that,” Prue says, an edge in her voice.

He hums.

“Can you change his destiny, too?” Phoebe asks.

“I can,” says the Angel of Destiny, “if that’s what he desires.”

She looks at her husband. He gave up his powers for her once upon a time, and struggled with the choice. She reaches for his hand.

“You’re my destiny,” he says, soft.

She smiles.

“It’s what I want, too,” Leo says, clearing his throat, and looking at the Angel of Destiny.

“Fine,” says the Angel of Destiny.

There’s a pause.

“Are you ready?”

She looks at her sisters.

“Yes,” Prue says.

“This cannot be undone.” He looks at each of them in turn. “You will be mortal. Magic will no longer be within your reach, for better, or for worse. You will be ordinary.”

“Ordinary is perfect,” Phoebe says.

He snaps his fingers.

She closes her eyes at the rush of warm, blinding light that sweeps over everything. It’s quiet. She opens her eyes, and she is standing in the kitchen with her sisters, and with her husband. 

The Angel of Destiny is gone. 

She takes an apple from the basket on the counter, tosses it, and means to freeze it. She can’t. She watches it hit the ground with a thump.

“What happens now?” Phoebe says.

“Now?” Prue says. “Now is when we . . . pack a lunch, put the baby in the car, and head to the park for a nice, normal afternoon.”

“I like the sound of that,” Piper says.

They are done with magic, with demons, warlocks, and the like, with worrying about what the Elders want, and trying to save the world, with cancelling on friends, with constant, costly house repairs, with putting off living their lives.

They decide they’re going to leave for the park in half an hour.

Prue heads to the attic to find the old, wicker picnic basket, Piper starts putting together some lunch for them, and Phoebe goes upstairs to check on the baby.

“I’m going to have to get a job,” Leo says, thoughtful.

She takes cheese, turkey, and mayonnaise from the fridge. “I can’t believe this is real. We aren’t witches. I can’t wrap my head around that.” She fetches a loaf of bread from the pantry.

There’s a scream from upstairs.

She runs.

They made a mistake. They should have asked more questions. They should have thought more about what it meant that Leo needed to give up his powers, too. They should have taken their time. They made a terrible, _terrible_ mistake.

“What have they done to him?” Phoebe says, hysterical. “What have they done to him?!”

“We’ll find him,” Prue says.

“How?”

“We’ll find him, Phoebe, I swear.”

“They took my baby! How could they do that? _They took my baby!”_

He is gone. His crib with the mobile of monkeys is gone, the shelves of his diapers are gone, his picture in the frame on the wall is gone. He is _gone._ The closet they made into a nursery is a closet once again. There isn’t a trace of him.

“I don’t understand why they would do this,” Phoebe says.

“We’re going to get him back,” Prue says, fierce.

There’s no way to get him back, however.

They have been cut off from magic, and are powerless. The Book of Shadows has disappeared. They have no way to get a hold of the Angel of Destiny, or in touch with the Elders.

They are mortal.

They wanted this, made a choice, and were gifted a life without the trials of magic, and now they have to live it.

\---

They don’t stop fighting in the weeks that follow. They have never lost a battle when they found the strength to fight it, and they refuse to lose this battle. They fight, and fight, and fight.

They know there is magic in this world.

They go to the shops they used to frequent for talismans, and try to recreate the potions they remember. They say a lot of spells, and beg the heavens to return their powers when the spells are met with silence. They search the in between for fairies, and scan the listings of auctions in hopes of finding a genie.

It’s useless.

The magic of the world is hidden from them.

Phoebe is lost, too.

She pours her soul into her work. She becomes a celebrity. She leaves for work at the crack of dawn, and returns at night, typing on her laptop, and eating the dinner that was left on a plate in the oven for her.

What more can they ask of her?

She wanted a safe, happy life for her son, and was made to believe she could have it.

Nobody told her the cost of this life was the existence of her baby.

They learn there is a single, rogue source of magic that’s available to them on a Saturday.

Prue is developing her photographs in the basement. Phoebe is working at the office. Prue is making a casserole for dinner.

“Hello, Piper,” says a man.

She drops the dish in her hand, hears it break on the ground, and feels the splatter of sauce on her leg.

There are strangers in her kitchen in long, dark robes.

“Who are you?”

“We are friends,” says a man.

“Friends?”

He smiles.

Everything happens quickly after that.

The strangers in her kitchen are an ancient, magical powers with a wealth of power that belongs to the collective, and they are willing to use their power to restore the destiny of the Charmed Ones.

“Why?” Prue says.

“We are for the betterment of the world,” says the Avatar.

“I don’t care what you’re for,” Phoebe says. “Yes. We want you to restore our destiny. _Yes.”_

“I am glad.”

“What’s the catch?” Prue says, insistent.

“We don’t want anything from you now. We ask simply that you remember the part we played in restoring your destiny. We seek a world of peace, and will come again to you in the future to share our vision with you.”

“That--”

“We’ll deal with whatever he isn’t saying when we have to,” Phoebe says.

“Okay,” Prue says.

There isn’t a wave of warm, lovely light. They watch the Avatars tilt their heads, close their eyes, and lift their hands. There isn’t a change in the air, or in them. “It’s done,” says the Avatar. Nothing is changed.

“Really?” Phoebe says, breathless.

The bottle of water at the end of the counter soars into Prue’s open, waiting hand. Leo disappears in a swirl of bright, beautiful blue lights. The bottle of water is tossed in the air, and Piper freezes it.

“Thank you,” Phoebe says. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Remember us,” says the Avatar.

“Where is Turner?” she asks, wiping at her cheeks, and looking at him eagerly.

“Turner?”

“My son?”

“I’m . . .” He hesitates. “I’m afraid it isn’t within our powers to return your son to you.”

“What?” Prue says.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said . . . you could restore our destiny to us,” Phoebe says. “You said . . .you _said--_ you said-- ” 

“I’m sorry if you misunderstood me.”

“Misunderstood?” Piper says, incredulous. 

“You said you could undo what the Angel of Destiny had done!” Phoebe says. 

“He took your destiny from you, and we returned it,” says the Avatar.

“He took my son!”

“I’m sorry.”

Phoebe opens her mouth, and closes it, shaking her head, and turning away from him, covering her face with her hands.

“This is unbelievable,” Piper says. “Is this how you great, magical beings get your kicks? Do you get off on making a deal with us, and neglecting to share the stupid, god damn _fine print?_ Is this fun for you?”

“It took a lot of the collective to return your powers to you,” says the Avatar, “and if we attempt to--”

“Is there a way to bring him back?” Prue says.

“I imagine that with your powers, you are capable of finding the boy.

 _“Finding?”_ Prue says.

“We cannot tell you where he is. That is up to you, and to your magic. We have done what we promised, and we cannot do more than that. We’ll leave you now. We will return when the time is right, and you are ready.”

“Hold on,” Piper says.

He’s gone.

“Oh, my God,” Phoebe says, shaking her head.

“I think I understand,” Leo says.

They look at him.

“You were offered the opportunity to live normal, ordinary lives. That’s why I had to give up my powers if I wanted to stay with you. You altered your destiny, so I had to alter my destiny, too, and become a mortal.”

“Right,” Prue says.

“You made a choice,” Leo says, “and I made a choice.”

“Leo, what are you trying to say?”

“You decided to give up magic, and you were allowed to make that choice for yourself, but you weren’t allowed to make it for Turner.”

“They didn’t wipe him from existence,” Piper says. “They sent him off somewhere to continue a life with magic.”

He nods.

“Where?” Phoebe says.

She looks up.

“The Elders?” Phoebe says. “The _Elders_ have him?”

“If they don’t have him, they know where he is,” Prue says, sour.

“Hey!” Piper shouts, glaring at the ceiling. “Where’s my nephew? I know you took him. Where is he?” She should have known they would be at the root of this. They must have panicked when they realized they were about to lose the Charmed Ones, and intervened. She should have guessed they would do such a cruel, calculated thing. “I’m talking to you!”

There’s a shimmer of lights.

“Grams?” she says, stunned.

“Hello, my darlings,” Grams says.

“Do _you_ know what’s happened to my son?” Phoebe says.

“I . . . I do.”

“And?” Prue says.

“He is safe,” Grams says.

“Grams!” Piper says.

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I wish I could tell you where he is.”

“You aren’t serious right now,” Prue says.

“Why?” Phoebe says, tearful. “Why can’t you tell me where my _son_ is?!”

“He is cloaked. After he was taken from you, he was in danger. Have you forgotten he’s the son of the Source? Legions of demons were after him. He was hidden for his protection with old, _powerful_ magic.”

“But you said you know where he is,” Prue says.

“I know with whom he was placed.”

“Who?”

She hesitates.

“Grams!”

“It isn’t my place to say,” she replies.

“What the hell does that mean?” Piper says.

“It’s my fault.”

She whirls around at the sound of the soft, sad voice, and is face to face with her mother.

“Mom,” Phoebe says, desperate.

“Sweetheart.”

“I know I made a mistake, okay? I know. Please. If you know who has him, _tell_ me. _Please.”_

“He’s with your sister,” Mom says.

“My sister?” She looks at Prue, and at Piper. “My . . . _what?”_

“You were toddlers at the time. You thought Mommy got a little fat. You never knew I was pregnant.” She looks at them sadly. “It happened when I was with Sam.”

“You had another baby?” Phoebe says.

“I did. At the time, it was forbidden for a witch to have a relationship with a whitelighter. I had no idea what might happen to her, or to you. I thought you might be denied your birthright. I was scared.”

“You had another baby,” Prue says, “and you never told us.”

“We wanted to keep her, of course, but--you know, before you and Leo, Piper, it wasn’t just forbidden. It was _unthinkable_ for witches to be with whitelighters, I mean, let alone have children with them. We decided we had to give her up.”

“And now she has my son,” Phoebe says.

“Yes,” Grams says.

“What’s her name?” Prue says.

“I can’t tell you that,” Mom says.

“Seriously?”

“I told you the child is cloaked,” Grams says.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means he cannot be found by anyone in search of him. It does not matter who you are, or what your motives may be. If you are in search of him, you will not be able to find him.”

“How does that prevent you from telling us the name of our sister?” Piper says.

“I . . . that information is useful to you in your search for him, thus I am unable to share it.”

“We are asking you to say a _name,_ Grams.”

“I can’t.”

“Mom?” Phoebe says.

“Her name . . . her name is--is . . . I’m sorry, girls.” 

“This is bullshit,” Piper says.

“How does our sister have access to this kind of old, powerful magic anyway?” Prue says.

“Her whitelighter is responsible for the cloak,” Grams says

“Her whitelighter?”

“This is the Elders,” Piper says. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? They’re hiding him. That’s what you aren’t saying.”

“It’s my understanding that her whitelighter does not answer to the Elders,” Grams says.

“Bullshit!”

“You made this choice,” Grams says, sharp. 

“Grams.”

“You gave up your birthright, and when you did, it was passed to another. That’s a choice _you_ made. You gave up your powers, and turned your back on your heritage.”

“I didn’t know it meant I’d lose my son!” Phoebe says. 

“I know, my darling,” Grams says. “But some things cannot be undone.”

“I know how difficult this must be for you,” Mom says. “I know. I lost a child, too. I _know._ It hurts. I wish I had the power to spare you that pain.”

“You gave away your child,” Phoebe says, wiping at her cheeks.

It’s hard for Piper to imagine. She couldn’t have done that. It’s hard to believe that her mother had the heart to, that her grandmother had allowed it, that neither of them had put up a fight, and defied the hosts of heaven to keep the baby with them.

“Mine was _taken,”_ Phoebe says.

“I know, my love.”

“I just want him back. We’ve got our powers back. Our _inheritance_. We’ve got our powers, and everything that goes with them. I just want him back.” She sniffs. “Why can’t I have him back, too?”

“Some things aren’t meant to be,” Mom says.

“I’m sorry,” Prue says, crossing her arms. “I refuse to accept that Phoebe isn’t _meant_ to raise her baby.”

“You never know what the future may hold,” Grams says.

It’s quiet.

“Blessed be.”

They leave.

There’s a moment of silence in the kitchen after they’re gone.

“We’re going to find him,” Prue says. “We’ll look into adoptions in San Francisco around the time Mom would have given up her baby. That’s a place to start. We’ll find our sister, and we’ll find your baby.” 

“He is hidden by magic,” Phoebe says.

She crosses the kitchen to Phoebe, and takes her face in her hands. "We’re going to find him,” she says.

They won’t give up.

The Elders say the baby is hidden with their sister by a whitelighter from the future.

“From the _future?”_ Piper says.

They have no idea who their sister is, or where she is. They have no idea why a whitelighter from the future is involved. They have no idea where to _begin_ to look for the baby.

They have their magic, however.

If they have to tear the world to pieces with the Power of Three to find the baby that was stolen from them, they will.

\---

She doesn’t know what to think when she learns she’s pregnant. They haven’t bothered trying in months. She is numb when she leaves the doctor’s.

She is going to have a baby.

She wants to laugh at the news, and she wants to cry.

There’s a part of her that is eager to rush to her sisters and share the news. She can picture the way that Leo will look at her when she tells him, the shock, and disbelief, the hope, and the joy. There’s a part of her that wants to spin in a circle in the middle of the street and shout the news to the world.

She thought she wouldn’t be able to have a baby.

She can picture, too, the way that Phoebe will look at her, how she’ll smile and blink at tears.

They haven’t been able to find her son. They have searched for information on the adoption of their sister. They have gone to Darryl for help. They have begged for rumors from demons, from Elders, from witches and fairies and leprechauns, from _everyone_. They have followed every trail and looked around every corner.

She decides to keep the news of her pregnancy to herself for the moment.

But, of course, it just so happens that, in the end, she spills the beans to a stranger.

She’s at the club. That’s where she spends the majority of her time these days. She’s at the bar, and it’s late, and she is wiping the counter.

“Can I ask you a question?” says a woman.

She glances up.

The woman at the bar has bright, glossy red hair, and a look of resignation on her face, has her head in her hand, and is stirring the ice in her glass with a straw.

“Sure,” Piper says.

“Do you think a woman needs a man?”

She snorts.

“That’s what I think, too! Let’s give up on men. They’re a waste of time.”

“I take that to mean you aren’t having a very good night?”

“I was stood up,” says the woman.

“I’m sorry.”

“I should have known. This has happened to me before. I made the mistake of mentioning my babysitter to him.”

“Asshole,” Piper says.

“I know!”

“You want a refill?”

“I’m okay,” says the woman.

“How old is your kid?”

“He’s a baby. He’s that cute, pudgy potted plant stage when they sit up and smile a lot.”

“I don’t know much about babies,” Piper says. She hesitates. And before she can think about it much, she adds, “I’m about to have a baby, actually.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“Congratulations,” says the woman.

“Thanks.”

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“Girl, I think.”

“They have way cuter clothes,” says the woman.

She smiles.

“I bet you’re gonna be a great mom. You’re taking the time to talk to a sad, lonely woman at the bar, after all. I bet that’s one lucky kid in there.”

“I don’t know about that,” Piper says. “I . . ." She sighs. "My family is kind of a mess at the moment. I wanted a baby, and I was trying for one for months, but the doctor said I wouldn’t be able to have a baby, and . . . and now that I _am_ pregnant, things are messy, and I . . .” She shakes her head.

“Families are messy, aren't they?” says the woman.

“Apparently."

“Well, I should go,” says the woman. 

“You need to close your tab?”

She rises to her feet. “I’m good.” She pulls her purse over her shoulder.

“It was nice to talk to you,” Piper says.

“I’m Paige, by the way.” 

“Piper.”

“I’m a big fan of your club, Piper,” Paige says, “so you’ll probably see me around again.”

“I hope so.”

She doesn’t know why it helps to talk to a stranger, but it does.

She tells Leo that night that she’s pregnant. He’s overjoyed. She tells him that she’s scared, that she feels like this is wrong, and she had no idea what it’ll mean to bring a baby into the mess of their lives.

He hugs her, and he promises her that he’ll be there for her.

It’s enough.

She reveals to her sisters that she’s pregnant.

They are happy for her.

She thinks of Phoebe that night when she’s lying in bed, and she leaves her husband, puts on her slippers, and goes to Phoebe’s room, sitting on the edge of the bed, and looking at the shape of her sister under the covers.

They aren’t going to find her son.

She moves to lie on the bed with her sister and curls up against her back, holding her.

\---

Things don’t really get better for them, but they adjust to the way that things are.

Phoebe is hesitant to live her life again.

She accepts a date with a man from the paper. After the date, she cries on the couch with Piper and can’t stop crying for the rest of the night, and it isn’t about Jason, not really. She likes him, in fact, and sees him again and again and _again,_ finding her way to a new, tentative relationship. 

Phoebe is quieter these days, is unlike the bright, bold woman she used to be, but she is doing her best.

Prue, meanwhile, is startled at the reappearance of Bane Jessup.

He charmed her once, and he does it again, easily, sending her flowers and asking her to meet for a cup of coffee, revealing that he was released from prison, and that he is ready to rebuild his life.

Prue falls head over heels for him in the blink of her eye.

He leaves her again.

She doesn’t know she’s pregnant until after he’s gone.

“You don’t need him,” Phoebe says, hugging her. “You’ve got us.”

Is this some kind of apology from the heavens? Piper is pregnant, _and_ Prue is pregnant? Is this their consolation prize now that they've accept the fact that they're never getting their first sweet baby back again?

Phoebe is happy for her sisters.

The three of them have a night in front of the TV, lounging in pajamas and watching _Kill It Before It Does_ , trying new, fancy clay face masks and painting their toenails, and they talk about names for the babies.

Phoebe smiles gently at them in reassurance when she wipes at the tears that gather in the corner of her eyes.

Piper wonders if she ought to introduce Phoebe to Paige.

There’s a bright, spunky _spirit_ to Paige that endears her to Piper, that makes Piper smile, that makes Piper think Paige is the kind of person she could be friends with.

They don’t see each other very often, of course.

But it brightens her nights when she sees Paige at the club.

“I have a present for you,” Paige says, sitting on a stool and pulling her purse off her shoulder.

“For me?”

Paige pulls a book from her purse and presents it with a flourish. _The Baby Owner’s Manual._ She grins and raises her eyebrows at Piper.

“Wow,” Piper says.

“It’s got all the stuff you need. How to change a diaper, how to swaddle, how to get the kid to go to sleep. It’s great.”

“Thanks,” Pipers says, taking the book.

“You’re welcome!”

“How’s your kid?”

“I gave him bits of a hamburger yesterday, and the sheer, unrelenting amount of poop that came from his body was _unreal.”_

She laughs.

Paige is never dull.

She sees the inscription at the front of the book when she opens it later that night in bed.

_Paige,_

_You’re the only one who can do this._

_Chris_

She doesn’t know why that makes her pause. She doesn’t know anything about Paige’s life, but she knows that things haven’t been easy for her. She wonders why it has to happen this way, why it's meant to be that good, kind _amazing_ women like Phoebe and Paige get put through the wringer.

She runs a hand over her belly and feels her baby kick her palm.

Things are what they are, and they are learning to live their lives as well as possible.

\---

She knows that she shouldn’t be leaving her bed, but she planned this meeting with Paige, and she needs an escape from the house. 

“I have a meeting, Dad,” she says, heading for the door.

“I promised your sisters I was going to look after you,” he protests.

“I don’t need you to look after me.”

He refuses to let her leave the house without Doris.

She gives in.

When she arrives at the club, Paige is outside the door with a cup of coffee in her hand and is arguing with someone on the phone, but she sees Piper, and she says “get a massage, Chris!” before she hangs up, beaming at Piper.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Piper says.

“No problem.”

“This is Doris. My, ah. This is my dad’s brand new bride.”

“Oh,” Paige says.

“Nice to meet you!” Doris says, cheerful.

She unlocks the door of the club, and they go inside. They are meeting to discuss the possibility of the club hosting a fundraiser for a local women’s shelter. She leads the way to the office and sinks into her big, comfy office chair immediately.

“Why don’t I get something for you to prop up your legs on?” Doris suggests.

“I’m fine,” Piper says.

“I bet I can find something for you. I’ll be right back. I have to say I love your club!” She leaves the office. “I’ll be right back!”

“She is . . . _nice,”_ Paige says, taking a seat.

“She’s a nightmare.”

“How long has your dad been married?”

“I’d say it’s been about two minutes,” Piper says, propping up her legs on a box by her desk.

“Sorry,” Paige says.

Piper waves a hand at her to dismiss it.

“You ready to talk about the fundraiser?” Paige asks.

“Hit me."

They don’t get very far into the discussion before they are interrupted.

“Shit,” Piper says, clutching at the desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Paige says.

She shouldn’t have come. _Dammit._ She should have stayed at home and rested like she was supposed to.

“I’ve got you,” Paige says, taking her arm.

“This is bad.” She shuffles from the office. “I need to go to the hospital. This is early. I need to see a doctor.”

“I can take you.”

She holds on tightly to Paige.

“Can you handle the stairs?” Paige asks.

“I think I--oh!” She buckles at the sudden, seizing pain. “I’m--” 

“You’re having the baby,” Doris says.

“I am not having this baby in my _club,”_ Piper says, gritting her teeth.

“Breathe,” Doris says.

“We’ll get you to the hospital,” Paige says. “Here.” She guides her to sit at the bottom of the stairs. “We’ll get you to the hospital, I promise.”

“Actually, I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Doris says, something in her voice.

“What?” Paige says, turning. "Why?"

Doris stabs Paige.

It happens so fast that Piper doesn't have time to strangle the scream in her throat.

Paige opens her mouth, closes it, and lurches, stumbling, and sinking to the ground.

“What the _hell_?” Piper exclaims.

Doris smiles. “You aren’t going to the hospital."

“Leo!”

“He isn’t going to hear you, dear.”

She gapes.

“Why don’t we find you somewhere more comfortable to have this baby?” Doris says.

“What have you done to my husband?”

“I told you that he went into town with your sisters.”

“Leo! Get your ass to me now! _Leo!”_

“He can’t hear you. Magic is down. He is powerless.”

She attempts to freeze this psycho, smiling bitch. She can’t. She waves her hand at her again and again.

“You are powerless, too,” Doris says.

The door to the club opens.

“Who are you?” Piper says, looking at the tall, thin man.

“I’m here for your baby,” he says.

She shakes her head.

“Why don’t we find a place for you to have this baby that isn’t the stairs, hmm?”

She wants to fight the two of them. She can’t find the strength, however, when they take her by the arms, and bring her to lie on a sofa. She wants to lurch to her feet, and _run,_ but she is crippled by contractions.

Why are they doing this?

“You can’t have my baby,” she says. “I won’t--” She clutches at her stomach. “I--”

“Breathe,” Doris says, rubbing her back.

“Go to hell,” Piper says.

There’s a noise from the front of the club.

“What was that?” asks the man.

“The mortal?” Doris says.

“I’ll see to it,” he says, and he pulls a knife from his robe before he heads to investigate.

“You’re fully effaced and dilated,” Doris says. “It won’t be long now.”

“If you do anything to my baby, I will kill you. I will hunt you and kill you. Even if it means coming back from the dead, and don’t think I won’t find a way to do that.”

“We’re not going to hurt your baby, Piper,” Doris says, like Piper is being silly.

Piper glares.

“We’re going to raise her as our own. She’s going to be a powerful leader, a great force of evil. You should be proud, very proud.”

“You--”

“Hey, lady!” Paige yells.

PIper whips her head to look at her friend and can’t really process what she sees: Paige is standing in front of them with a knife in hand.

“You want a piece of me?” Paige challenges.

 _“You--”_ Doris says, furious.

Paige throws the knife.

It strikes Doris straight in the heart.

“How do you like them apples?” Paige crows, triumphant.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Piper says.

“You ready to go to the hospital?” Paige hurries to her, kneeling, and the front of her shirt is _soaked_ with blood, but somehow she's okay, and she looks at Piper with clear eyes. “You think you can?”

Piper shakes her head. The contractions are coming too quickly now. She blinks at tears.

“It’s okay,” Paige says, gripping her hand. 

“I need my sisters.”

“You want me to call them?”

“I--” She grabs at Paige when Paige tries to stand. “I need--”

“I’m here,” Paige says.

“You’ve done this before,” Piper says, meaning to reassure herself with the words.

“Well, no.”

“You have a baby!”

“He’s adopted!” Paige says.

“Oh, my God.”

“But it’s okay because I’ve got luck on my side!”

“Luck?”

Paige opens her palm to reveal a small, glittering lump of gold. “It’s a gift from a friend,” she says. She presses the gold into Piper’s hand and curls her fingers around it.

“I don’t . . .”

“We’re going to do this, Piper.”

She nods.

They don’t really have a choice. 

She wants a doctor in a hospital. She wants her husband and her sisters. She wants to have her baby the way she planned, safe, and with the people she loves. 

They use the towels that Doris was able to find and pillows from the sofa. 

She clutches the nugget of gold in her hand.

Her baby is born in a swaddle of beautiful, glowing blue lights.

She clutches him to her, and she looks at his tiny, red face, and she laughs with tears in her eyes. He’s perfect. She looks at the bow of his mouth, at his nose, at his lovely, little black eyelashes.

It’s a _boy._

She can’t believe it.

“He’s a keeper,” Paige says, and when Piper looks at her, she smiles. “I told you we’d make it through this.” 

“Are you . . . ?” She thinks of the fact that Paige was stabbed and survived, that she fought off demons, that she held the baby in her arms when he was swathed in orb, and wasn't shocked or frightened. “Are you a whitelighter?” she asks.

“I’m a witch,” Paige says.

“Really?”

"Scout's honor."

“I’m a witch, too,” Piper says.

“Cool,” Paige says.

Piper laughs.

There’s a swirl of orbs. 

She gasps in relief at the sight of her husband and her sisters. 

They crowd around her immediately, telling her how worried they were and questioning her about everything that’s happened to her, crying at the sight of the baby, hugging her shoulders and kissing her cheeks.

She leans into Prue and looks at Leo with their son in his arms, and on the floor of the club, sore, exhausted, and surrounded by her family, she’s never been this happy.

\---

They discuss what that happened later that night. Piper is clean, rested, and in bed, her sisters are lying in bed with her, and Leo is seated in the chair by the window with the baby in his arms. They have a lot they need to explain.

Her sisters start by telling her everything that happened to them that day.

They learned that magic was down, assumed Piper was safe at home, and went to a summit with demons to discuss a way to fix the problem, and when they realized it was a trap, they were able to escape, and they knew they had to get to Piper, but they had no idea where she was until magic was restored and Leo was able to use his powers.

“You have no idea how worried we were,” Phoebe says.

They want to know what happened to her.

She explains.

“Paige was _stabbed?”_ Prue says.

“I don’t know how she survived it,” Piper says. “Luck, I think?”

“Luck?”

“She said she had luck on her side and gave me a piece of gold. I assume it was magic.”

“It’s possible,” Leo says. 

“How?”

“Leprechauns,” he says.

“You think she had a piece of gold from a _leprechaun?”_

“It’s magical.”

“Wow.”

“And if she’s a witch, she has a whitelighter, and she would have been warned that magic would be down, and that’s why she had the gold with her.”

“It was lucky that she was there with you,” Phoebe says.

“I know,” Piper says.

“I wish I’d had a chance to thank her,” Prue says.

Paige had left the club when they were in a happy, crying puppy pile on the floor.

“She has a kid, you know,” Piper says. “She--”

She stops. It’s like a punch to the lungs. _Oh, God_. What the hell is the matter with her? How long had she knew this girl? Why hadn’t it occurred to her before? She turns over everything in her mind, and she _knows._

“Piper?”

“Oh, my God,” she breathes.

“What?”

“She’s a witch,” Piper says. "Paige. She's a witch."

 _“Right,”_ Prue says, a furrow in her brow. 

“She’s a witch!” She grabs Phoebe’s arm. “She’s got a name that starts with P, and she is younger than you, I know, I’ve seen her license, and she’s got a kid, and, Phoebe, he’s _adopted.”_

Phoebe stares.

“She’s our sister!” Piper exclaims.

They need to get in touch with her. They _found_ her. They need to talk to her and to reveal who they are.

\---

She doesn’t know Paige’s cell number. They’ve become something like friends these last few months, but they’ve never actually spent time together. She calls the number for Paige’s office and leaves a message, asking Paige to come by the house.

They’re hoping that she’ll hear the message as soon as she arrives at work.

Phoebe is pacing the house in distress by 10 a.m.

They considered the possibility of going to her office. Prue is concerned it might not work if they go searching for her, because, remember, she’s cloaked, and who knows what the extent of that is. They decide that if they haven’t heard from her by the afternoon, they’ll go by her office.

There’s a knock on the door.

Paige is sheepish when Prue ushers her into the house.

She has no idea what she’s walking into.

Paige is kind, and fun, is her friend, and the reason that Piper is safe and that her baby is sleeping in her arms.

They are about to drop a bomb on her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi, Paige,” Phoebe says, breathless.

“Hi.”

They make Paige take a seat.

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” Piper says, sitting on the sofa in a mountain of pillows.

“Good.”

“There’s something we need to talk to you about. I know I was vague in my message. This is something that I couldn’t say over the phone.”

“I figured,” Paige says, toying with the hem of her skirt.

“Do you know what this is about?”

“I assume it’s about the fact that I’m a witch?”

“Sort of,” Prue says.

“How’s your son?” Phoebe says, abrupt.

“My . . . ?” She blinks. “My nephew? He’s--yeah, he’s fine. My . . . Chris is babysitting. Why? Is something the matter? What’s . . .” She looks at each of them. “Why do you want to know about my kid?”

“Paige.”

“What?”

“You’re our sister,” Prue says.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Our mother had an affair with her whitelighter. They had you. Our mother was afraid of what the Elders were going to think, and what they might do, so she gave you up for adoption.”

“Oh,” Paige says.

“We never knew about you,” Piper says, “until . . .”

They explain everything that’s happened to them. 

How they defeated the Source, and were offered a chance for a new, normal destiny. How they agreed, and had no idea of the consequences. How they managed to restore their destinies with help from the Avatars, only to discover the baby was placed with a sister they didn’t know they had.

They tell her how they searched for her, and gave up when they realized it was pointless.

“I--I knew he was my nephew,” Paige says.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t know that I’d ever meet you. I thought . . . I thought you might be dead, or . . . I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“How’d you find him?” Phoebe asks.

“I was outside my apartment. I’d been out late at P3, actually, and I’d parked the car and was crossing the lot when I heard a baby crying. I found him in the bushes.” She swallows. “I was going to call 911.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Demons.”

“They found you?”

“They surrounded me. I had no idea who they were, or _what_ they were, and I was--I was terrified. They circled me, and one threw a fireball at me, and I orbed on accident, but I didn’t _go_ anywhere, and when I reappeared, they . . . they would have killed me.”

Piper thinks of Jeremy, of his betrayal, and the terror that clutched her that day on the elevator. What would it have been like if she’d found herself _surrounded_ by demons? She can’t imagine how she would have survived.

“That’s when Chris showed up,” Paige says.

“Chris?” Prue says.

“My whitelighter. He saved me."

“You can always count on your whitelighter,” Piper says.

“Always,” Leo says, smiling.

“He told me that I was a witch, and I said he was insane, obviously. He reminded me that I was adopted, and that I had to admit the possibility I came from witches. He told me that I was given up for adoption because I was in danger, and this baby was given up, too, because he was in danger."

“He wasn't in danger," Phoebe says. "They _took_ him from us."

“I’m sorry,” Paige says.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Piper says.

It’s quiet.

“I--Chris! Hey! Can you bring Turner here, please? Chris! Yoohoo!”

“How’d you know his name?” Prue asks.

Paige isn’t able to answer before there’s the glow of orbs.

Chris is a young, dark-haired man with a set to his jaw that makes him look very, _very_ annoyed. There’s a baby in his arms.

“Oh, my--” Phoebe claps a hand to her mouth.

“Hey, kiddo,” Paige says, reaching for the baby. “How’s it going?” She smiles. He is a healthy, happy baby with dark brown hair, and he beams at Paige, kicks his leg, and babbles at her. She wiggles her nose at him. “You want to meet somebody really special?” 

“Hi,” Phoebe says.

Paige gives Turner to Phoebe to hold.

“Hi, baby.”

Piper is crying. She glances at Paige to see a small, soft smile on her face while she watches them. Piper is a bundle of hormones at the moment, exhausted, and emotional, but she can’t help but think that she loves her new, red-haired baby sister so, _so_ much.

“I missed you,” Phoebe tells Turner.

Turner is quiet in her arms, and he turns his head to look at Paige for reassurance.

“So,” Prue says.

“Yes?” Phoebe says, bright.

“What happens now?”

They look around at each other for a moment.

“I’m Leo, by the way,” Leo says, extending a hand to Chris.

“Chris.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, flat.

There’s a pause.

“I saw the house next door was for sale,” Chris says, clearing his throat. “I say we start with that.”

“What?” Prue says.

“Beats me,” Piper says.

She has no idea what he means. She looks at her own sweet, newborn baby, and smiles, lifting her gaze, and looking at Prue, and at Phoebe with her son, and at Paige. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but she knows that everything will be okay.

\---

They celebrate the defeat of the Titans by having a big, home cooked family dinner at the manor.

Piper is obviously in charge of the meal.

She delegates the smallest, simplest tasks to her sisters. Prue is asked to fix a salad. Paige is asked to make a pan of brownies from the box. Phoebe is asked to stir the glaze on the stove. She knows their strengths. 

They work together pretty well.

They’ve had practice, of course, in the months since they brought Paige into the fold, in the kitchen, and with demons, sharing a life, and sharing a legacy.

There isn’t nearly enough room for all of them to live in the manor, of course.

That’s why they bought the house next door. 

It was a gift from Victor, actually, because, he said, he couldn’t be the father his girls needed when they were young but he could be the father they needed now, and the grandfather, too. 

Piper lives in the manor with Leo and Wyatt.

Her sisters moved into the new, slightly larger house next door with their boys.

“I have a question,” Prue says.

“Is it do you need to cut the carrot in thinner, more palatable slices?” Piper says.

“No.”

“Because if that’s the question, the answer is yes.”

“What’s Chris’s story?” 

“Chris?”

“He acts like he knows everything about us, but he refuses to share the _details_ of what he knows, or, _how_ he knows what he knows.”

“I don’t really know,” Paige says.

“I’d be interested to know more about him, too,” Leo says.

“I’ve told you everything he told me. He’s from a future in which the world is terrorized by a sorcerer, witches are hunted, and things are really, really bad, and he’s in the past to ensure this psycho evil sorcerer guy is stopped. I’ve learned he changes the subject if I press for details.”

“There’s something that’s bugged me for months," Prue says.

“What?”

“Why didn’t he tell you about us? He knew who Turner was, knew his name, and knew that he was your nephew, so he must have known who we were. Why didn’t he tell you about us, too?”

“I asked him about that, actually,” Paige says, pouring the batter into a pan.

“And?”

“Some things have to happen the way they happen. That’s what he said. I don't know what it means. That's all he'd say. Some things have to happen the way they happen.”

“I don’t trust him,” Prue says.

“He’s never done wrong by me,” Paige says. 

“That you know of.”

Paige sighs. “He’s a neurotic, socially awkward hermit, I admit, but, you know, pobody’s nerfect.” She shrugs.

“I’m with Paige on this,” Phoebe says. "He helped keep my son safe all this time, didn't he?"

Prue is quiet before she narrows her eyes, purses her lips, and picks up the old, dinged up Magic-8 ball on the counter. 

“That’s a vintage 90s collectible,” Paige says.

“Can we trust our new, neurotic whitelighter?” Prue asks, shaking the ball. 

“Well?”

“ _Better not tell you now_ ,” she reads.

“I feel like that’s a somewhat positive response.”

“It’s a vague, suspicious answer,” Prue says.

“What is?” Chris says, coming in.

“The message that Prue got from a guy,” Phoebe fibs.

“A guy?”

“You think I don’t know a guy?” Prue says.

“I’m just saying you can’t give up on dating,” Piper says, joining in. “There is someone for you.”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say,” Prue says, narrowing her eyes at Piper.

They’ve had this conversation before. Prue had decided after the birth of her son that she had no need for a man in her life, that she had her job, her sisters, and her son, and she was content. They haven’t been able to change her mind.

“Some of us aren’t lucky enough to fall in love with an _angel,_ Piper.”

He snorts.

“Is that funny to you?” Prue says.

“Yes, actually,” Chris says. “Give it a couple of years, and you’ll know why.”

She glares.

“Brownies are officially in the oven,” Paige says, straightening.

“Salad is made,” Prue says.

“Glaze is ready, I think,” Phoebe says, a wrinkle in her brow.

“Sounds like we’re ready to start,” Piper says.

They carry the food to the table. She’s made ham, a sweet potato casserole, and coleslaw, and there’s salad, too, of course, and rolls, and she’s opened a bottle of wine. They take their seats.

Wyatt, Turner, and Andy are content in the playpen for the moment.

“To family,” Piper says, lifting her glass.

“To family!”

They clink their glasses and pass the plates, digging in, ready to enjoy the meal like the mixed up, magical family they are.

\---

+1

\---

They wake up early to make a big, surprise breakfast for Grams. It’s Mother’s Day. They make Grams breakfast to celebrate every single year.

Paige is sleepy.

She is five years old, and she’s never been allowed to help with breakfast. She insisted they wake her up this year to help. She is five years old, in kindergarten, and a very good helper, and she is ready to prove it.

“You want to sprinkle the salt?” Prue says.

“Yes!” Paige says, eager.

“You have to do it slowly. Can you do that? You want to spread it across the eggs.”

“I can do it!” Paige says.

Prue lifts Paige to sit on the counter by the stove. She pours a spot of salt into Paige’s palm, and she tells her to pinch it and, little by little, sprinkle the pinches on the eggs. Prue is twelve. She’s made scrambled eggs loads of times and is really, really good at it. Prue is good at everything.

Paige follows her instructions carefully. “How's that?” she asks, looking at her sister hopefully.

“You’re a natural,” Prue says.

She beams.

Piper is making cinnamon buns with a recipe from the book that Sam gave her for her birthday. 

(They don’t see Sam very often. He's busy a lot. But when he comes to visit, he brings them a lot of gifts, and he takes them to the movies or the zoo or the park for a picnic, and he's so much _fun_. He says they’re his girls, and he loves them to the moon and back. Paige loves Sam.)

Phoebe is setting the table.

They have to be quiet while they work. They don’t want Grams to wake up before they’re finished because that would ruin the surprise. They have to keep the lights on dim, and whisper.

“Do you think Grams will be surprised?” Paige asks.

“Definitely,” Prue says.

“I made her a card at school. I drew a rainbow on it. I wrote _I love you,_ _Grams_ on the inside.”

“She’s going to love it.”

They decide to make a batch of pancakes, too. Paige is assigned to stir the batter while Prue adds the ingredients. They make a really good team, and the batter is made in a matter of minutes.

“How’s it going, Piper?”

“Good,” Piper says, kneeling on the ground and pressing her face to the door of the oven.

“Are they rising like they’re supposed to?”

“I think.”

Prue makes pancakes on a griddle. While they cook, she puts Paige’s hair in two, short braids, trying the braids with some of the bands on her wrists. Prue makes pancakes in the shape of a heart, in the shape of a P, and in the shape of a cat.

Paige likes to pretend, once in a while, that Prue is her mother. Why shouldn’t she? Prue wakes her in the morning and puts her to bed at night, gives her baths, and reads her stories, has taught her to tie her shoes, and to pinch her nose when she eats her vegetables.

Everything is ready by the time they hear Grams on the stairs.

“Surprise!” Paige says, jumping.

“Oh, my!” Grams says. “What have my girls done for me?”

“We made you breakfast!” Phoebe says.

“You made me breakfast? How lucky am I! You are the sweetest, most darling girls in the world.”

They settle in together at the table.

“Piper, did you make these buns by yourself?” Grams asks.

Piper nods.

“You have a gift, my dear.” Grams smiles.

Prue draws a smile in ketchup up Paige’s pile of eggs, and when she glances at Phoebe, Prue makes a face, and tells her not to drown her eggs in ketchup.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Phoebe says, sticking her tongue out.

“Girls,” Gram says, a reprimand.

“I like ketchup!”

“Do you know what makes me happiest on Mother’s Day?” Grams asks, changing the subject.

“What?” Piper says.

“That I have the privilege of raising the four of you.”

“We’re the best,” Phoebe says, shoveling a forkful of ketchup in her mouth.

“You, my darlings, are a triquetra.”

“What’s a trike-we-tra?” 

“Most people believe that a triquetra is a symbol of three,” Grams says, leaning in, “but I know better than most people.” She goes to the counter to get a pen, and she begins to draw a sketch on a napkin. “This is a triquetra.” 

Paige has to lean in closer.

“It isn’t made up simply of three important, equal parts,” she says. “It’s made up of four.” She smiles. “Here’s the first, here’s the second, and here’s the third, and, of course, here’s the fourth, to hold it together.”

“I’m the fourth,” Paige says.

“It isn’t static,” Grams says, glancing at her.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that in your lives, you’ll play different roles. But you’ll always be together. The four of you, _together,_ are the most powerful girls in the world.”

“I want to be the circle in the middle,” Phoebe says.

“You’ll have your day, dear,” Grams says, patting her hair.

They leave the dishes in a pile in the sink.

They have Grams open her gifts: a bottle of perfume they pooled their money to buy, cards from Piper, Phoebe, and Paige that were made in school, and a picture of all of them in a frame they bedazzled.

They curl up together in front of the TV after. Grams is seated on the sofa with Piper at her side, Phoebe is lying on her stomach on the floor, and Paige is curled up with Prue on the big, poofy loveseat. They have a single, well-loved home video from when Paige was a baby.

Paige stares at her mother on the screen.

Patty is seated on the sofa with a small, swaddled baby in her arms. “Are you ready to meet your sister?” Sam asks. Prue, Piper, and Phoebe appear in the frame, small, and overeager, crowding their mother to peer at the baby.

In the present, Paige curls up closer to Prue.

This is what she knows of her mother. She watches her in this video, and listens to her say “this is Paige” with a soft, sweet smile, and feels an ache in her tummy that makes her want to cry. This is everything she has of her mother.

She wipes at her cheeks.

Patty was killed in an accident when Paige was two months old.

She’s grateful when Prue holds her tighter.

They watch the video until the end, rewind it, and watch it again and again and again until, at last, Grams claps her hands, pushes to her feet, declaring that they need to pack a lunch to take to the park.

Paige is quiet while they fill the basket with snacks for their picnic.

“Are you sad about Mom?” Phoebe asks.

She nods.

“You want a hug?” Piper asks.

She nods.

Piper hugs Paige. “I want a hug, too,” Phoebe says, jumping, and throwing her arms around their necks. Prue hugs them, too, all of them together at once.

Paige is squeezed in the middle of a warm, tight puppy pile of her sisters, and she is happy.

They’ll always have each other. That’s what Grams likes to say. They are sisters, and that means that no matter what, come hell or high water, forever and ever, they’ll always, always have each other.

**Fin.**

\---

_And I never want to let you down_

_Forgive me if I slip away_

_And all I've known is lost and found_

_I promise you_

_I'll come back to you one day._


End file.
